This is developing into one of the most memorable World Cups of them all, already dwarfing the somewhat unsatisfying experience of South Africa 2010.

Can you imagine the task facing Mexico when the team stepped into a cauldron of local support and heard the Brazilian players and fans belt out their national anthem a cappella? The scene was no less riveting Tuesday than in Brazil's opening game, setting the stage once again - one would think - for something great.

Instead, Mexico fought to a 0-0 draw in a game of exquisite drama and tension. El Tri unleashed a barrage of long-range shots on goalkeeper Julio Cesar, most of them barely missing the mark.

They held Neymar to just one shot over the first 60 minutes. And Guillermo Ochoa staged the finest goalkeeping performance of the tournament to date with four fantastic saves, including a leaping, one-handed deflection of a Neymar header. Mexico now looks to its final game of the group stage, June 23 against Croatia, for its shot at advancing.

The action has been compelling on nearly every front. Lionel Messi scored an electrifying goal that just may trigger a sustained, long-awaited brilliance in his Argentina uniform. In that same match, Bosnia-Herzegovina's goal was scored by Vedad Ibisevic, just 7 years old when murderous invaders destroyed his hometown and forced his family to flee the horrors of civil war. With Spain in shocking but perhaps inevitable descent, once-fractured France has arrived as a unified, completely invigorated squad.

Wednesday brings the next look at the Netherlands, with Robin van Persie and Arjen Robben at the height of their powers. England is trying to figure out whether it's wise to bench Wayne Rooney, who delivered a fabulous cross for the Lions' only goal against Italy but looked fatigued and helpless in the second half, shanking a corner kick that sailed grotesquely behind the goal.

Meanwhile, a man named Brooks, born in Germany and more comfortable speaking the language of his homeland, comes off the U.S. bench to fulfill a dream he experienced two nights before his first World Cup game: scoring a game-winning goal in the 80th minute (it was actually the 86th) with a header off a corner kick.

In the waning minutes of Portugal's 4-0 World Cup loss to Germany, Ronaldo threw a fit over nothing. He thought he'd been fouled, and perhaps that was the case, but the game was well decided. This was more about himself. The man wants so desperately to display his wonderfulness to the world, and he'd been rendered ordinary by the relentless Germans and his own side's futility.

Theme song: "You're So Vain."

With time about to expire in the United States' sensational 2-1 victory over Ghana, Clint Dempsey's head throbbed with every step. His nose had been broken in a brutal collision, and he would have been excused for avoiding contact during the Black Stars' final push. Instead, he threw himself in front of the bullish, rampaging Sulley Muntari, a violent confrontation that drew a foul on Dempsey but took some time off the clock. Later, as his team celebrated its hard-earned triumph, Dempsey revealed that he'd been coughing up blood.

Theme song: "Wild Horses (Couldn't Drag Me Away)."

Thus begins the soundtrack to a potential classic: The U.S. vs. Portugal on Sunday, and when people discuss "the face of the team," they mean it literally in this case. Dempsey's rugged, broken face symbolizes the Americans' all-for-one, at-any-cost mentality. The great Ronaldo seldom strays far from a mirror.

This striking contrast tells us little about Sunday's outcome. Portugal is at the point of desperation now, glad to be rid of Germany and plotting redemption. If Ronaldo finds windows into the precious space he craves, he could win the game all by himself. The U.S. is dealing with a number of ailments, one of which - Jozy Altidore's hamstring - could leave them powerless on the attack.

It's fascinating to realize that Portugal, home to Eusebio and Figo and so many other greats through the years, essentially relies on just one man - and that the U.S. narrative is so fluid and unpredictable, the obscure John Brooks can appear on the scene to score a game-winning goal.

One would imagine Dempsey being intrigued by the chance to play alongside Ronaldo, whose magic in the open field is wondrous to behold. He'd also be a bit disgusted. Last year, Ronaldo built a museum in Funchal, on the Portuguese island of Madeira, as a tribute to himself. As described on ESPN.com, "Some 150 individual awards stand gleaming in glass cases, alongside space explicitly left for new additions."

Dempsey, who almost literally rose from the dust, wouldn't know anything about that.

Dempsey learned the game in the ragged East Texas town of Nacogdoches, a long way from anywhere. He lived part of his life in a trailer, his parents driving him three hours each way to Dallas for the sake of better competition. His left arm is a veritable mural of tattoos, including a tombstone depicting the death of his sister, just 16, of a brain aneurysm. So often in Europe, the great ones emerge from sophisticated clubs they joined in grade school. Dempsey, the man unafraid to take a second blow to an already broken nose, crafted a career on personal terms.

Recalling his journey before the World Cup began, Dempsey said, "Here I am in East Texas, where not many people are as passionate about the sport as I am, and then I'm looking on TV and seeing people from all over, from all these different countries that have the same passion that I do, and they're willing their team on. That's when I fell in love with it."